


Play that Abba Song

by DamaLasi



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fix-It, dumping ground for my head-canons, excessive use of ABBA songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15816978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamaLasi/pseuds/DamaLasi
Summary: All Henry wanted was for Regina to stop moping over Robin Hood. So he called in the cavalry. Enter Emma Swan, whose night is on a downward spiral.There's nothing Emma wouldn't do for her son, even cutting her date short to rush to the help of his adoptive mother.What follows is a long night filled with ABBA songs and confessions that bring together two souls not so different after all... and a new beginning.





	1. That's her destiny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MindyQuinzel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindyQuinzel/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Play that ABBA song [FANART]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15762750) by [MindyQuinzel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindyQuinzel/pseuds/MindyQuinzel). 



> This story veers off from canon in the middle of 4x04. 
> 
> This story wouldn't exist without A. She went above and beyond beta-reading duties and the only reason why I'm not adding her as a co-author is her expressed wishes. Love you and miss you(in person), please take good care of yourself. <3
> 
> A special thanks the mods for making this SuperNova possible and personally for putting up with my inability to meet deadlines.  
> Thanks to my cheerleaders Swanwolf and Waknatious for helping me choose the story I wanted to tell.  
> A super thank you to mehworld, I was supposed to be her cheerleader but she ended up being mine :)  
> I dedicate this fic to my artist who brought the biggest grin to my face with her poster (Emma would love it and Regina would love to rip it apart).

“I’m here kid,” Emma manages to get the words out in between dragging in big gulps of air. “Did you call for an ambulance? Did you call David?” Her urgency and alarm do not seem to be reflected on Henry’s face. Question marks rise up in Emma’s mind, which heck in Storybrooke she might even expect them to appear hovering fully formed above her head Looney Tunes style.

 

“Why? There’s no emergency…” Henry answers, puzzlement creeping into his voice.

 

“You texted me and I’m quoting here ‘Mom’s down’. How is that not an emergency?” Emma questions him bewildered. It's like playing a guessing game, and guess who is losing. The adrenaline pumping through her veins is beginning to ebb and she becomes more aware of what’s going on around her. The first thing she registers is some pretty loud music blaring away. It’s ABBA’s ‘The winner takes it all’ and she blinks in surprise - that’s definitely not a sound she’d expect to encounter in this house.

 

“I meant she’s sad,” Henry grumbles and rolls his eyes at Emma who is left gaping at him like a fish.

 

She nervously combs her fingers through her hair, which she probably shouldn’t do because she’ll mess up her very slick, very chic ponytail. She broke the speed limit, ran through a red light, well ‘the’ red light as there’s just the one in the entire town and she’s pretty sure she clipped Regina’s hedges as she screeched to a stop outside her house. Her bug is still halfway blocking the neighbor’s driveway and there are very prominent skid marks on the pavement.

 

Regina’s sad? That’s it? And of course Emma had to drop everything, ditch her date and run to the rescue because Henry is the perfect example of nurture versus nature and, also, is totally a drama queen. “Kid, next time, try to text me without giving me a heart attack, will you? I thought there was another Snow Monster or something worse that cursed her or sucked out all her magic or whatever.”

 

Henry frowns at her. “She’s locked herself in her office and she’s been playing that song on repeat for the last couple of hours.”

 

“Henry I’m sure that means something to you, but I’ll need a bit more of an explanation.” Emma glances at the empty hall behind the boy. Everything seems to be in pristine condition, as expected from Regina’s home.

 

“We were talking about Robin Hood. But she says I'm too young to understand. My mom needs somebody to talk to about all this. Someone who is an adult.”

 

“Hen I want to help, you know I do, but you also know how she feels about me right now,” Emma interjects softly. She had tried to apologize for bringing Marian over from the past, but it’s hard to say sorry and mean it when you’ve saved a life. Regina hasn’t yet been able to get past what she considers as Emma’s incorrigible self-righteousness.

 

“Don’t give up on her. She needs you.” Henry says it with the same conviction he’d had as a ten-year old proclaiming her the Savior, meant to bring back the Happy Endings.

 

The things she’ll agree to for her son’s sake. “Ok, but if she snaps, write me a nice eulogy, will you?” It warms her heart that Henry’s gotten over all of his misgivings about Regina and her past. Their relationship has come so far from the hostilities of three years ago. She’s not sure if the saying ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder’ might apply in this case, but her son and his adoptive mother have had the fondest of hearts towards each other since their reunion.

 

Resigned to her duties as caretaker, Emma shuffles in through the white door and takes her shoes off with great relish. She knows she looks a fright what with the detour she took through some back alleys chasing that Will Scarlet character.  

 

Her pink frilly dress is not quite as shocking as the big dirty blotches on the bodice and the jagged tear in her skirt near the knee. And she’s definitely sure she managed to forever ruin the heel of her right pump.

 

“What’s happened to you?” Henry asks, finally taking in her appearance. “Wait, never mind, you can bond with mom over it. I'm sure she'll find whatever happened to you funny.”

 

Before an embarrassed Emma can confess her aborted chase of Will Scarlet, Henry marches towards Regina’s office and knocks on the door. As soon as it’s open, he announces: “Emma’s here!” and turns around quickly, heading for the curved staircase. He bounds up two steps at a time, and before either Emma or Regina can even utter a word they hear his bedroom door banging shut.

 

Now that Emma’s literally standing on the threshold to Regina’s office, she finally notices that the Abba song is actually Meryl Streep’s version of it from Mamma Mia. Emma loves that movie to bits.

 

Regina’s quite the sight and her appearance strums a chord in Emma’s memory. She’s reminded of that late October night some three years ago when they first met. Just like then, the woman in front of her appears to be made up of raw emotion. Her composure is off, there are wrinkles in her off-white blazer, and while her high end mascara isn’t running, it’s still a bit smudged around her bloodshot eyes.

 

Somewhere deep inside, a voice tells Emma to take up her father’s sword and slay whatever demons are torturing Regina. Unfortunately this time it’s not some monster, it’s only the past coming back to spoil the present and her future.

 

Regina is clutching Kleenexes in her hand, knuckles turned white. When she notices Emma’s gaze she hides her clenched fists in her pockets.

 

“What do you want? I gave your father the census ledgers.” Her voice is raspy and uneven.

 

Put on the spot, Emma starts babbling. “Henry said...he wants me to...that you need … an adult.”

 

There’s a myriad of micro expressions playing over Regina’s face in a matter of seconds. She’s probably going through every coping technique she’s ever learned from Doctor Hooper and then some and weighing all the consequences of ‘pulling an Evil Queen’. But in the end, her gaze fixed on the ceiling above, towards where Emma knows would be Henry’s room upstairs; she takes a bracing inhale and goes back inside. A curt “Fine” is all the acknowledgment Emma gets.

 

The fact that the door is left open and isn’t slammed in Emma’s face is all the welcome she can expect. So, with some trepidation and a feeling of déjà vu, she steps over the threshold and into Regina’s home office. The room looks the same as it did that fateful night of their first encounter, seemingly transported straight out of a magazine. Regina’s emotional state is eerily similar, and well since Emma’s just come from a botched date, will the parallels never end? There is one significant difference, the Meryl Streep version of ‘The winner takes it all’ ABBA soundtrack playing in the background.

 

For about one length of the song they sit in awkward silence, on different ends of the couch. Regina is gazing into the depths or more like the shallows of her drink while Emma’s perched on the hand rest, feeling tense and contrite. Once in a while, she steals a few glances at Regina, especially since the song lyrics seem to relate as much to their own relationship as they do Regina and Robin’s. All that talk of destiny and gods, winners and of course losers. It reminds her of the prophecy, of battling heroes and villains and of how only one can win.

 

“Want some?” Regina asks, gesturing with her glass. At Emma’s little hum of approval, her only rejoinder is a laconic “Then get it yourself.” Ah, Regina is full-on charm tonight.

 

Emma walks over to the decanter and pours herself some cider, not shy about filling her glass to the brim. This situation needs about all the social lubricant properties alcohol can afford her. From there she shuffles over to the desk. Its surface is nearly dwarfed by Henry’s old computer with the giant CRT monitor. Playing music is about the only task this monster is probably still capable of doing.

 

“As far as breakup playlists, this isn’t the worst; it sure beats Celine Dion or classic 90’s boybands. Can I change the song, though?” Great start, Emma winces internally, make Regina feel like a pathetic teenager, that’s the way to mend fences: with a chainsaw, as per usual.

 

There’s no forthcoming answer, only a long exhaling breath as Regina rests her head on the back of the couch. She seems to have regained most of her composure. She’s so good at pulling her mask back on, that it makes you doubt there was even a moment when it was off. It’s a discordant contrast to the way Meryl Streep’s voice breaks while reaching the passionate song finale.

 

“Ok, then I won’t, it’s near the end anyway. I’ll just turn the shuffle on if that’s ok?” Emma doesn’t get an answer this time either, so shrugging her shoulders, she jiggles the clunky mouse to get out of the screensaver. Shooting stars duly disappear and instead Emma’s left only with the on-screen visualizations of windows media player. That is some seriously ancient software. It takes her a while to figure out the settings. It's like she's back in front of her old high school computer.

 

*

 

‘Our last summer’ starts playing and Emma has to try to somehow break the ice if she’s ever going to get home tonight. “I don’t think we’ve ever had one of those.”

 

“Not a lot of summer in Maine.” Regina’s looking her way a bit incredulous as to how Emma’s got them talking about the weather.

 

“Pretty sure this year, we would’ve had the first one. But then it’s all suddenly... frozen.” And right on cue, a perfectly safe topic of conversation brings them back to the disaster of the week. In Storybrooke, there’s no keeping the conversation to superficial things.

 

“You can say thanks to your new friend for that.”

 

“Oh come on Regina, she’s…nice.” But there’s not too much strength of conviction in Emma’s words.

 

She knows Regina’s still stung by Emma’s firm defense of Elsa the previous day. The Snow Queen's frame job should have been an airtight case. There was a time when Emma had defended Regina as well in the face of similar accusations, but that support had been insubstantial and easily revoked. This time, she had stood her ground as the Sheriff and not backed down, trusting her instincts. The slight to Regina is doubled by the simple fact of Elsa being a perfect stranger to them.

 

It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell her that it’s only because of how she’d previously failed Regina that she was so insistent on not making the same mistake twice, but Emma knows that once you’ve hurt somebody like that, there’s no good way to take it back.

 

“What’s wrong, trouble in paradise? Had a fight with your new B.F.F?” The mocking tone does nothing to hide the bitterness Regina must be feeling.

 

Emma shouldn’t take the bait, but Elsa’s comment on her dress still stings. “She kinda said I dress like a skank or … you know a woman of loose morals or whatever your people used to call it,” Emma had probably been more hurt than she should have by a Disney princess’ pronouncement on modern day clothes, but she’d tried her best to look as pretty as the dolls she’d never had as a kid, “but in a polite way.”

 

“Your jeans do sometimes look like they’re painted-on. She’s not used to seeing such a garment on a woman.”

 

“No, it’s not that, Regina. She was referring to this dress; she called it a corset and asked where the rest of it was.” Emma is pretty sure her face has gone a very rosy color to match said dress. “And what’s wrong with my jeans? I saw you _then_ , you were wearing something that looked impossibly tighter than mine.”

 

“While true, I did get called the Evil Queen. I had to dress the part.”

 

“Oh don’t you blame it on your tightass pants. The indiscriminate curses and the terrorized villagers had more to do with that.”

 

“Like the song says, Miss Swan, It was the age of no regret, living for the day and all that.”

 

“I’m more interested in the morning croissants,” Emma says quoting the song currently playing. She ignores Regina’s muttered reply “Of course you are.” “And wondering if we’ll ever have a dull life. Can you see Henry working in a bank? He’s actually getting better at math,” she says a bit wistfully.

 

“Now, don’t change the subject. I’m curious. What's with the dress?” Regina finally sounds more engaged with the conversation.

 

This is Emma’s chance. She shrugs her shoulders. “It’s for a date.”

 

“Aren't you a bit presumptuous? You never even asked, you just showed up at my door?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes, “Yeah right, ha ha, I was on a date with Hook.”

 

“Well it must’ve gone splendidly since you’re here in my house Miss Swan.”

 

“It wasn’t that bad actually. I’ve definitely had worse dates.”

 

“Back in the day, when you were catfishing for justice?”

 

Regina could let this go since Miss Swan is remarkably tight-lipped about the night’s adventures, but her curiosity is niggling at her. “Just how bad was your date going? Did he take you to Granny's or the Dwarves’ mine?”

 

“The date was going great I’ll have you know. We went to Tony’s,” Emma says crossing her ankles as if she were a proper lady. “Hook was on time, dressed-up nicely and might I say behaving like a total gentleman.”

 

Regina sneers and shakes her head, clearly unimpressed. “He managed to do all that without hitting on your parents and the restaurant staff?”

 

Emma shoots her a glare, shrugging off the sly remark. “Well, even his innuendoes were tamer than usual.”

 

“And yet, you bolted the first chance you got?”

 

“I had to catch a thief,” Emma replies squaring her shoulders. Going by Regina’s raised eyebrow, her version of the truth is not cutting it. “You know me, duty comes first,” she tries once more.

 

“So you chased a drunk guy because you are such a dutiful sheriff,” Regina's other eyebrow goes up as well. “Ok, I’ll take your word for it, Miss Swan.”

 

Emma's still seated in front of the computer when ‘SOS’ starts playing. With lyrics like ‘When you're gone, How can I even try to go on’ it's not a good choice for tonight’s mood. So she skips to the next song.

 

“Not the biggest fan of Brosnan’s singing or acting for that matter.” She doesn't know why she keeps justifying herself to Regina.

 

“Sure, why not. We'll go with that. But you're changing the topic again Emma.” Regina's like a dog with a bone tonight. “You could've cleaned yourself up, you know.”

 

“I'm sorry I didn’t have the time to stop by the cleaners’ before coming to your rescue.” Emma says, brushing ineffectively at the worst of the stains.

 

“I meant you could’ve used your magic, Emma.”

 

Instead of meeting Regina's eyes, she picks at the frayed ends of her skirt. “Yeah, that’s still a bit wonky after it got sucked out… When I performed CPR on Hook.”

 

“Ah, the perfect metaphor for what that pirate does to you. He sucks all the magic out of you.”

 

Emma doesn’t know how to interpret Regina's words so she focuses instead on the background music. ‘Thank you for the music’ is playing and that first line, ‘I'm nothing special, in fact I'm a bit of a bore,’ prods at her core and all her insecurities. Without her magic, her special talent, there's nothing for people to like about her.

 

Shaking her head and her darker thoughts away, she grins at Regina. “You know what I am thankful for…The lack of music. Growing up with the Disney versions of you guys, I kinda feared there would be a lot more singing and frolicking animals in this world. I think I even had a few nightmares about it. Truly, my biggest fear about breaking the curse was that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the choreography during the spontaneous outbursts.”

 

“Did I at least get a good musical number in your dreams? The villain song should always be the best.” Regina plays along for once and winks or tries to, it's quite endearing how badly she fails. Emma beams at her and is overjoyed to see the barest tint of a flush high on Regina’s cheeks. It’s definitely not from the alcohol. Regina shy is a breathless view. Then Emma gets the disquieting feel of magic washing all over her body.

 

With a flick of her wrist, Regina’s used her magic to restore her dress to its clean and starched appearance. Ah. Maybe she is warming up to Emma, or maybe she is too concerned her furniture will be stained. It could be both.

 

*

 

When ‘Lay all your love on me’ starts playing, the excuse of needing to refill her drink gets Emma to her feet. At first she’s sort of power-walking to the upbeat rhythm, but soon enough she starts dancing in front of the bookshelf. She forgets all about her drink.

 

Regina stoically ignores her antics for a while. “This could have been Hook’s anthem as he was following you around like a lovesick puppy, all through Neverland and ever since.”

 

Emma generously forgives Regina’s baiting this time. She’s more interested in how the skirt of her dress moves, as she pulls every cheesy dance move from her repertoire.

 

Not quite belting out the lyrics and doing finger guns at Regina, she then starts miming a heart above her chest and laying her hands on her breastbone. Her voice is nice but she’s really off key.

 

About half way through ‘Lay all your love on me’, Regina asks Emma to skip the song. It’s probably the line about skipping her pride that hits a bit too close to home. Emma isn’t bothered, Amanda Seyfried’s voice is nice enough but also sort of grating.

 

‘Gimme gimme’ gets skipped as well for the same reason.

 

She moves to skip ‘Super trooper’ but Regina dissuades her. It’s got a nice rhythm.

 

*

 

Another upbeat song starts playing and Emma is trying to remember how she’s supposed to dance to it. She’s pretty sure this is one of those songs that had an army of people decked in rows doing choreography on the dance floor. All she can come up with is a silly dance walk that probably looks more like the Cha-Cha Slide.

 

“Don’t start clapping, Miss Swan. This is not a plane landing. Also, ‘Voulez-vous’ sounds even more like it should be the Pirate’s theme song.”

 

“Oh come on, do you want to give him all the nice songs so you can keep the mopey ones? That doesn’t sound like the Regina I know and ...” Emma stumbles over her words and mouths to herself _I like her, really?_ Thankfully, there’s no reaction from Regina’s corner of the room. It seems she’s caught up in her own thoughts.

 

Emma is happy she wore this dress tonight. Might have been a bit overdoing for the date but it sure swishes nice to the music.

 

*

The first time Regina starts to lose her frown is when Emma invites her to dance to ‘Does your mother know.’ She doesn’t get up but she starts mouthing along to the lyrics ‘But I can’t take a chance on a kid like you”. Is that an innuendo? From Regina?

 

Emma stretches her hand once again in invitation, only to have Regina hand her the empty glass. “Since you’re already on your feet, make yourself useful, dear.”

 

“I wasn’t aware Christine Baranski could sing before this movie,” Emma confesses.

 

“I love that actress in ‘The good wife’,” Regina tells her. “She should have her own show.”

 

“Of course you would watch that.” And she can totally imagine Regina chilling in front of the television with a tall glass of wine, probably taking notes on what items to add to her wardrobe and how to get away with murder from TV lawyers.

 

“Henry’s set me up with a Netflix account and I've been catching up on the last couple of seasons,” Regina volunteers. “As long as no more power outages occur, I should be up to date soon. Can't even properly binge watch a show with how disaster prone this place is,” she laments.

 

“Gives new meaning to Netflix and chill.” Emma says before she thinks her words through and promptly blushes a darker shade of pink than her dress. She’s grateful her back is turned since she’s pouring them both drinks, so she takes her own sweet time adding some ice cubes and lime to ‘her Majesty’s’ glass. Damn Regina comes prepared with all the good stuff.

 

“And you had to go a whole year without TV, Internet, or electricity. Must have been brutal.” After only two weeks she’d spent there when the curse broke and the Neverland trip, Emma swore to never go camping again, not even for the weekend.

 

“Having magic helps… I think what I missed the most was my shower, tried to magic one … Flooded an entire wing of the castle,” Regina says, reaching for her drink. Their fingers gently brush together and a tiny frisson seems to go through both of them. It's probably caused by the ice cold glass, Emma reasons.

 

*

 

After spending a couple of songs clowning around trying to get even a smirk from Regina’s part, Emma’s a bit winded, so when the next song that starts playing is a ballad, she sits down in front of the computer.. The song playing is ‘Slipping Through my Fingers’ and her eyes drift to the picture of little Henry in his Storybrooke Academy sweater that is proudly displayed on the outermost corner of the desk.

 

The song hits her with a million memories, memories she now knows are not true.

 

“I remember walking him to school on his first day, and it wasn’t even real. It was all fake.’

 

“Not fake, just… not you.” It’s not the most delicate way to put it, but it’s so Regina.

 

This admission should hurt Emma but all it does is humble her even more at what Regina gave up, at what she gave to Emma.

 

“They were mostly my memories, with a few tweaks. There was no time to invent a whole new set. A few small changes, and your mind could fill in the rest.”

 

 _Slipping through my fingers_ , it captures so well how elusive those 10 years of borrowed memories are. Like dreams that lose detail when you focus on them. So many moments she’s shared with Henry but never actually lived through.

 

*

 

Because the playlist is set on continuous shuffle it eventually rounds back to ‘The winner takes it all’.

 

“Did you really think it was a good idea to bring a child from the outside into a cursed town? Him aging and everyone around simply staying the same way. Didn’t you think he would notice it as time went on?” It’s a question Emma has always wanted to ask, but never had the courage to. One glass of dry whisky and the words practically spill over.

 

“I rarely think that far ahead.” The alcohol has loosened Regina’s lips as well.  “And it wasn’t supposed to be like that. The Curse, it made everything seem normal. When he entered school, I did fear that he would notice how none of his classmates were moving up in grade like he was, but he never did. There was nothing bothering him, not until that last year... I guess by then the curse was near its expiry date, like milk going bad.”

 

Regina's dark eyebrows gather together, “And then a few weeks before his tenth birthday the sneaky boy went in search of his presents. He’s a smart cookie, he figured out my password.”

 

“It’s his date of birth, it doesn’t take a genius.” There’s barely restrained frustration in Emma’s voice. The tech savvy part of her, the bails bonds person that she used to be is outraged at the lack in security.

 

“Yes well, do you want me to continue or would you rather give me a lesson in crypto security?” It’s a story no one’s ever asked of her, since barely anyone ever asks Regina for the motives behind her actions, they usually judge her without even a trial.

 

“I have a feeling I know where this is going, he found his birth certificate and you hadn’t told him about the adoption. And then he got the book from Mary Margaret.” Emma can almost see it flashing before her own eyes, her own set of ‘fake’ memories: Henry finding the papers related to her arrest and her subsequent time in jail and some of the adoption agency brochures. But it was all for the best, really, they’d grown closer because of it, because of him finding out that Emma ‘was tempted’ to give him up but never actually followed through. They truly were a gift, those memories.

 

Regina is lost in thought for a while, lost inside her own recollections. “He used to have night terrors as a child. For weeks on end, he’d wake me up every night with his screams, his tear-stained, scared little face turning up at my bedside, wanting to climb in with me and stay the night so I could make it all better. But the fear in his eyes when he found the adoption papers, I will never forget that. His whole reality crumpled, and I couldn’t understand it then. I did not react well. I had not thought to prepare him even, and somehow I kept making it worse all the time.”

 

“You were also afraid, you shouldn’t...” blame yourself too much, Emma wants to continue, but Regina won’t let her.

 

“I should have put him first. That’s what a mother is supposed to do. Instead I let the Curse…”

 

“You did put him first when it mattered.” They are both thinking of that cursed turnover, and maybe of a curse that mimics love and a diamond that should have destroyed the town, and of those terrifying days spent on a frantic search in Neverland.

 

“Everything mattered,” Regina’s voice wavers, she crosses her arms over her chest as if to protect herself. “I crossed every line I had imposed for myself that year. It wasn’t uncharted terrain, mind you. But I had made a promise to myself when I decided to adopt him that I would never be like my mother, and then proceeded to become her spitting image… again.”

 

“You could have done much worse, and I wasn’t helping the situation.”

 

“No, don’t try to make light of what I did, please. I was becoming a monster again, and you know what, Emma?” Regina stands up and walks towards Emma, stopping at the edge of the desk, and staring straight at her. She places her hand next to Emma’s, not quite touching it, just lingering in the near vicinity. “I am grateful you stopped me, Miss Swan, Emma. That you managed to break the curse. If you hadn’t come, or if I had managed to chase you away during those first few days… Who knows what would have happened to Henry? To us all? He would have aged, grown up, grown older than me. I'm sure the Curse would have reset itself in a different form. And I would have watched it all, lost it all again. So, here’s to you, Miss Swan. Thank you.”

 

Emma stretches her fingers until they touch Regina’s, overlapping at the tips. For all her flinty exterior her skin is remarkably warm and soft. It’s a momentary connection, broken when Regina removes her hand to reach for the keyboard and turn the volume up. There have been too many confessions tonight. She needs a break from her own thoughts, needs to drown the voices in her head.

 

*

 

‘Mamma Mia’ gets Emma back on her feet. She doesn’t care about the lyrics, all she cares about is the rhythm. And truth be told, Regina seems to enjoy the song as well.

 

“It’s true. I was blue ever since I let you go” Regina says, still caught in a confessing mood. “You and Henry, when I had to stop Pan’s curse.”

 

Emma thinks it’s a good thing she hasn’t clamped down on her feelings again, but also doesn’t really want for her Majesty to get glum again.

 

*

 

When ‘Dancing Queen’ starts playing Emma can’t help herself and walks over to Regina to offer her hand, saying “You’re in the mood for a dance.”

 

It’s the third or maybe the fifth drink that probably does it, getting Regina up and actually playing along. She’s a bit stiff and she limits herself to only a little shuffle of her feet at first. But Emma is pulling out again all her silly moves, twirling around her partner and hooking their elbows together to spin Regina around.

 

Emma sings along to the refrain, and her cheeky modification to the lyrics “You are the dancing queen, young and sweet only SEVENTY” gets her a hip check that almost knocks her over the coffee table and lands her on the couch.

 

“You can dance, you can die,” Regina picks up the gauntlet thrown and looks more like herself than she’s done all evening. Her smile is sharp, but her eyes remain playful and she holds out her hand to help Emma get back up to her feet.

 

“You’re a teaser you turn ‘em on,” Regina continues as she starts pulling on the skirts of Emma’s dress a bit, straightening the folds and managing to fluster her in the process.

 

In exchange, Emma just grabs onto her hand and has Regina do another spin during the ‘Having the time of your life’ bit. That particular move ends up with Regina’s back pressed against Emma’s front, relaxed and a bit uncertain in her moves but swaying her hips to Emma’s lead.

 

Another half turn and they’re once again facing each other. Emma’s hands are still fastened securely on Regina’s waist, guiding her into more traditional dance steps. As the song ends, emboldened by the high spirits Emma brings her right hand up to Regina’s back, presses down gently and puts her right foot forward widening her stance. She’s too chicken to ask if it’s ok to do a dip, but Regina reads her body language and leans back into her hand.

 

It may not be moving the moon or destroying a doomsday device but it is a perfect dip between two equally balanced partners. It's not just Emma's strength it's also Regina's skill and grace that makes it work effortlessly.

 

They break apart and Emma does a silly bow.

 

“Last time I danced I do believe I was indeed 17, but not yet a queen.” Regina says, straightening her clothes.

 

“How come? Weren’t there a lot of balls? When I traveled to the past, I met you at Midas’s party.”

 

“And did you see anybody foolhardy enough to invite me to dance?” Regina’s tone sounds more wistful then haughty.  

 

“Surely you had to dance as a Queen, Snow told me of the parties when she was growing up.” She’s not sure why she’s so insistent, it’s not like Emma is a fan of ballroom dancing.

 

Mary Margaret had oftentimes regaled her with accounts of the splendid balls that would take place at the palace. This was back when she was trying to convince Emma that they all needed to return to the Enchanted Forest. To Emma’s great relief it seems like one year back in the land of no plumbing and dragon pox has cured the inhabitants of Storybrooke of their misplaced nostalgia.

 

“Yes, there were many parties, but my role at court was to be decorative. The King would dance with his beloved daughter, have her seated at his side and leave her in charge whenever he was away.” Regina’s words are clipped, and her tone bitter.

 

She returns to her seat, and remains quiet for a moment too long. Emma tries to think of another thing to say, but nothing comes to her. Maybe she should retire before she pisses Regina off again. She is so focused on trying to decide that she is startled by Regina’s voice.

 

“On the anniversary of our wedding, the King gave me a broach. It was exquisite. Finest metalwork in the realm with jewels from the dwarf mines. He then went on to tell me how he had gifted this same broach to his first wife and how the last time he saw Queen Eva wear it she had mentioned how she couldn't wait for Snow to be old enough so she could pass it on. And then he made me promise to pass it on to his daughter on her coming of age in her mother’s memory,”, She is trying to sound aloof but her inflection is off, revealing the rawness of the memory. This is a younger Regina, yearning for love and instead finding rejection.

 

“Ouch, hand-me-downs from the dead wife, and on loan. That must’ve sucked.” Emma tries to make light of the situation, to take out the sting from that painful recollection. She’s not exactly surprised to hear how tactless Snow’s father was, after all Snow has her moments as well.

 

“From the richest man in the land,” Regina insists.

 

The irony that the song currently playing in the background is ‘Money, Money’ isn’t lost on Emma. “You do realize my sympathy only stretches so far when I had to fix my sneakers with duct tape in middle school.”

 

“I don’t need your sympathy. I do want you to know that your mother wasn’t blameless. She trapped me in that marriage.”

 

“She was ten. She thought her father was the most loving man in the world. She wanted you to be happy.” Emma can’t help but come to her mother’s defense.

 

“She wasn’t ten for long, dear. She saw how miserable I was.”

 

“Yes, and she shifted the blame from her father to you. Same way you shifted your mother’s sins onto her.”

 

Regina doesn’t reply, her eyes cast down. In few words, Emma has indeed summed up the truth in that impossible situation. “I mean her father was a major creep. The guy first gets engaged to your mom…Then he dumps her because she’s pregnant with another guy. And the only reason he knew you weren’t the child he’d come close to raising as his own was because you were too young. Yeah, I don’t think I’m his biggest fan.”

 

Since Regina is so open right now, even though Emma is reluctant to push her luck and a change of subject would probably be the wiser choice, she still wants absolution for her sins. “So can you forgive me already? For bringing Marian back.”

 

“Emma, this was never about Marian.”

 

“Then what was it about?”  

 

“Don’t be obtuse, Miss Swan. You were going to take Henry away and go to New York together. Leaving me behind.” Alone is the word Regina doesn’t add. Emma still hears it.

 

So much has happened since Emma had announced at Granny’s her plans to return to New York, she’d actually forgotten all about it. She can’t imagine leaving now, and the ice wall makes it physically impossible anyway. Regina is right, that wasn’t something she should have decided on her own. But now that she thinks of it another little thought worms its way in.

 

“So you’re not really upset about the Marian thing? It was all about Henry?” Emma prods.

 

“Was I supposed to divine you wouldn’t take Henry away from me. Last time I was going through emotional distress you and your family wouldn't even let me see him.” Regina shows off once again her prickly attitude.  

 

“Last time you were going through emotional distress you tried to curse us into oblivion. So not quite the same.” Emma can’t help herself from pointing out.

 

“I was going to therapy and helping get you and your mother back,” Regina points out defensively. “You’ve tried to take Henry away from me from the moment you stepped in Storybrooke.”

 

Emma has to set the record straight. “I didn’t want to take him away, Regina. I was afraid you were going to give him up.” She tries to meet Regina’s eyes but Regina is avoiding her gaze, that prominent vein on her forehead making an appearance.

 

“That’s not how adoption works.”

 

Emma doesn’t want to dwell on her crappy childhood, Regina will think she’s trying to score points, but she needs to explain her actions. Seen from outside she knows everything she did that first year was not good, bordering on illegal as hell.  

 

“I’ve seen it happen. I was afraid that if I left the same would happen to Henry. The rich mom would get tired of the bratty kid who was running away from home, stealing credit cards, getting in a lot of trouble. So many people got tired of me, why should he be any different. It was a combination of my hang-ups and your attitude that had me staying.” There are a lot of dark memories going through Emma’s head and she’s afraid she will genuinely start crying. “I stayed to protect him. You were lying the whole time. When I got here, I asked you if you loved him, remember? I have my special power Regina,” her voice is quivery, but she will not back down.

 

“Of course your lie detector went ding ding ding. I was lying through my teeth about almost everything back in those days. The curse, the town, who I was, the book, the prophecy. Take your pick. The one thing though that I never lied about was loving my son.”

 

And that sense Emma has, that super power is tingling. “You didn’t believe it either… That you could… That you were still capable of loving?”

 

“He taught me how to love again.” And just like that Regina capitulates.  

 

“Me too.” Emma says, and does something she’s never done before. She hugs Regina. There have been some near hugs, when Henry was between them but there was never time for only the two of them.

 

“You give great hugs,” Regina says, gently detaching in the end.

 

“I learned from Henry,” Emma says with a choked voice. She’s spilled so much of herself that it’s hard to hold back what’s left.

 

“So did I,” Regina admits humbly. “Truth be told I had more issues than Henry’s collection of comic books.”

 

“You nerd.” Emma says cracking into an infectious laughter. Regina joins her. They only stop when Emma’s growling stomach threatens to drown out all sound.

 

In the spirit of their newfound camaraderie, Regina invites Emma to the kitchen, “Wouldn’t want to be accused of starving the Saviour.”

 

“Have a seat,” Regina tells her as she makes directly for the fridge. She pulls open the chromed door and rummages around for a cardboard box with ‘Tony’s’ written on it. She sets the pizza down in front of Emma with a flourish, also sending a spark of magic to warm up the leftover slices.

 

“Well at least I get to taste their pizza, that should save my night.”

 

“Henry likes it, and after a whole day spent in my vault, looking for a cure for _her_ , I feel both of us were in need of it.”

 

There’s just about a third left of the extra large pizza and Emma feels no shame in going for the biggest slice.

 

‘’Not bad. All that running and dancing’s gotten me pretty famished,” she says almost devouring her food. It’s only on her second slice that she slows down and takes the time to methodically pick out all the little olive bits and place them neatly to the side of her plate.

 

“Henry doesn’t like them either, it’s why we do half and half, but I’m afraid he’s already eaten his share.” Regina daintily eats one slice, and then picks out another one, most likely the smallest one. “It's way past dinner time and Storybrooke is no longer stuck on Groundhog Day.”

 

“You don’t like pizza bones?”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Regina asks perplexed.

 

“The crust, can I have it? It’s the best part,” Emma says, and without waiting for an answer she grabs the half burnt edge and munches on it while still holding on to her other slice of pizza.

 

The long stare she receives from Regina is almost enough to curb her more cave-person-like tendencies. “Sorry, bad habit from foster homes, if you weren't fast enough you went to bed without dinner.”

 

“Well I certainly would have gone to bed without supper if my mother saw me eating like a hyena.” It’s intended as a chastisement but Regina ends up revealing too much about herself. Again.

 

Emma’s eyes are like two green lasers pointed on her. She doesn’t say more but she does sit a little bit straighter and takes her elbows off the table while pulling her napkin closer. Their childhoods were very different but the trauma left is similar.

 

Emma finishes the last slice of pizza with a happy sigh, “I think i've found my soulmate... carbs.”

 

“If that's the case mine would be wine.” Regina answers, pouring them each a glass of wine.

 

Emma’s had a glass of cider and one of Scotch already, she knows she’s probably pushing it by adding wine to the mix but she’s actually enjoying herself so she accepts the stemmed glass with a nod and a smile.

 

Emma is an extremely enthusiastic storyteller. Regina finds it out for herself, when while reminiscing about some characters she’d met during her bail bonding duties, Emma sends her hands flying wildly around and spills what’s left of her wine on her dress.

 

“This one you get to clean yourself.”

 

“Come on, Regina, I’m too drunk to magic,” Emma whines.

 

“And what if the Snow Queen suddenly attacks? You have to always be prepared.” Regina is in full blown teacher mode. And if Emma is honest with herself she’s finding it attractive. “We went over the basics Emma, you only have to concentrate a little.”

 

“Rule number 95, kid. Concentrate,” Emma mutters under her breath.

 

“Could you please not quote a Disney cartoon at me?”

 

“It’s from the computer game.” Emma is thinking speculatively of Henry’s old computer, she has a hunch she might find some of the old Disney games installed.

 

She tries to do as she’s told, but under Regina’s burning gaze she has a bad case of performance anxiety. She closes her eyes, trying to focus even though she is sure she probably looks as if she is constipated. She tries to fight her sleepiness, tries to block everything else: from the thrumming in her head announcing her impending hangover to the music that is still playing in the background. The lyrics are particularly appropriate ‘What a mad day, now I see everything in a different light.’

 

“Don’t hold your breath or you might pass out,” Regina chides. “Begin by concentrating on your magic, at your very core, then it should grow into an almost physical sensation that spreads out in waves across your body. And then you focus it right here,” she finishes her instruction by tapping Emma’s chest above the claret stain.

 

It’s like Regina’s flicked on a switch, the gradual building of tension morphs instead into suddenly feeling like every muscle in Emma’s body is being squeezed at once. She opens her eyes in shock, only to be greeted by twinkling dark eyes and a genuine smile. Emma looks down at her dress and returns the smile. The spilled wine is gone.  

 

Riding on the high of her success and emboldened by the music playing in the background, Emma goes ahead and does just what the song suggests. She tries to kiss her teacher. She’s only going for a small peck on the cheek. But Regina is clearly startled by her unexpected movement and turns her head at the last moment. The shift in position ends with their lips colliding. The most clichéd move in the book.

 

The kiss tastes like golden apples, soft and sweet, and it warms Emma up from inside out. She opens her eyes only to see that Regina is already watching her with eyes that are full of light. Their mouths part with a small shared gasp.

 

Emma hastily pulls back. Fuck, she’s fucked this up badly. The kid wanted the two of them to make up, not to make out.

 

“It’s late, I should go. I’m sorry for… I’m sorry. ” Caught in a trance, Emma walks out of the kitchen and barely remembers in time to return to the study for her car keys.

 

 

 


	2. Here we go again

For once something Emma Swan has done leaves Regina completely speechless. The kiss was sweet, even if unexpected and unfortunately unintended, going by the hasty retreat.

 

She takes her time in the kitchen cleaning up the plates the old-fashioned way and putting everything in its place. That should give Emma enough time to make her exit. She feels a little guilty, she should maybe stop Emma from driving. But it’s not like she can get arrested for drunk driving what with being the sheriff.

 

She's unsure about what’s just happened. Was it an accident truly? Was it a seduction tactic? And if that is the case, on whose part? The alcohol involved helps blur the lines.

 

A quarter of an hour later, she returns to the study to turn everything off and retire to bed. She finds Emma sleeping on the couch, an arm and a leg hanging off the edge. She spots her car keys on the floor, under the coffee table. She can only assume Emma’s tried to search for her keys and fell asleep in the process.

 

It’s the most idiotic and yet endearing thing the Savior has ever done. Regina can barely hold in her giggles. As a toddler, Henry used to fall asleep face down on the couch, legs hanging off, his little body too exhausted to manage the climb.  

 

She leaves Emma to slumber on her couch and quietly retreats to her own bedroom. There’s no light coming from under Henry’s door, but she thinks she hears the movement of young, restless feet. It’s way past his bedtime but she is too tired to do anything about it, she’ll have to reinforce the importance of sleep another time.

 

Sleep takes a long time in coming. Regina isn’t one for regrets. Her acts are her own no matter the consequences. However when stressed she often finds herself acting out and seduction is one of her favorite games, and this is clearly what she has done tonight.

 

She doesn’t expect to see Emma in the morning but, uncharacteristically, this time she hasn’t run away. She’s still on the couch, rolled in a tight ball. Regina feels a twinge of guilt. She should have at least covered her with a blanket. In fact the polite thing should have been to offer her the guest room.

 

She makes up for her lapse in hospitality by waking Emma up with a peace offering of coffee and an invitation to breakfast.

 

“Sorry I ruined your plans for the evening. I'm sure you had a different sort of happy ending planned out for your night.” Even when she’s trying to be nice, Regina can’t help herself, sarcasm is her first language.

 

“Ha there’s nothing of the sort going on until he does a full course of antibiotics. He’s been around for centuries, and he never came with the curse.”

 

“What does that have to do...”

 

“Well, it cured David’s wound. And you…” Emma stops her mouth from running and digging herself further in, clearly she’s not nearly awake enough.

 

“And what about me, huh? Do you think I was this syphilitic whore? And… and got what? Magically re-hymenated by some curse?” Regina explodes.

 

“No!” Emma's brain is too slow in waking up and is only now catching up to her mouth. “It’s just that you weren’t all Evil Queen all the time, when I got here. Corrupt politician sure with maybe sociopathic tendencies, but not quite to the pyromaniac axe murderer in the night levels!?”

 

“Oh, you meant it cured my insanity, not my STD’s.” Regina’s not sure what she wants to do to Emma  right now, but she’d better leave before she does anything too drastic. Only it’s her own damn house so the one to leave should be Emma. “Goodbye, Miss Swan,” Regina says and with a twisting shake of her wrist she vanishes the blonde out of her house. That's typically them, they’ll burn that bridge when they get to it.

 

*

 

After Emma’s abrupt departure, Henry shows up from the kitchen, bowl of cereals in hand. They look way too colorful to be the healthy kind, but at least she doesn't have to worry about breakfast any longer, since Miss Swan has ruined her appetite.

 

“Yeah, she sometimes needs a filter.”

 

“What she needs is a muzzle, not a filter.”

 

“Mom, look, she totally didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

 

“Were you listening to our conversation?” Regina asks her son, looking down her nose at him, a glare worthy of her evil days.

 

“Only the last bit. You were being so loud and I was checking if everything was ok,” Henry says, walking past her and climbing onto the first step of the stairs so he can match her glare from up close. Her baby’s grown so much, he’s gaining on her in height and temper.

 

“And then you stayed to eavesdrop.”

 

“Yup.” He’s not even pretending.

 

“And pray tell me how do you imply something like that in a good way?” This is very much not a conversation she wants to have with her teenage son.

 

“We were in the middle of a Buffy and Angel marathon in New York before we returned to Storybrooke. I bet she was thinking of Darla. She ugly cried at the birth scene,” he grinned.

 

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”

 

“I can bring you the DVDs so you don't have to struggle with the VHS player and we can watch them together. But basically it’s this vampire who was dying as a human but then when she changed back to a vampire and couldn’t give birth, she staked herself so the baby would live.” Henry babbles on with excitement.

 

He’s always enjoyed sharing stories with her. They would frequently have movie marathons over the weekend. Maybe it’s not too late to reinstitute that tradition. They’re long overdue a _Star Wars_ rewatch. Or maybe _Lord of the Rings._ Henry would probably insist they involve Emma. Well maybe she could finally teach her the difference between Elvish, Half-Elvish and Spanish.

 

“I would be more concerned about your TV habits if we didn’t live in Storybrooke. But I guess I should be relieved you've had some Sex Ed in whatever shape or form. Because I'm sure Mary Margaret took the expression ‘the birds and the bees’ too literally in her curriculum.’

 

“Oh yeah, we did that in NY, they showed us loads of gross pictures. Between that and the fear that everybody might be related to me in Storybrooke, I think I’ll wait until I’m off to college… Or in my thirties. Whichever comes first with all these curses,” Henry says with a serious face, but then cracks up in seconds, an infectious laugh erupting. Regina smiles indulgently at him.

 

“So did you two have fun?” he asks cheekily. “Are you still mopey about that rotten Robin Hood?”

 

“I thought you liked Robin and Roland?”

 

Henry finds it hard to explain his sudden dislike for Robin Hood. But it’s one thing to see the Mayor kissing the Man of Legend, hiding in the hallways and smiling like a schoolgirl, and it’s another thing to see his mom, isolating herself and crying for a man that’s unattainable through chance and choice.

 

“We had fun that day… But that was all, one day, are you really going to live like a recluse. Shut yourself in your big mansion like Miss Havisham?” He’s probably being too harsh with her. “Mom, I love you. I want you to be happy. So don’t give up. And we won’t give up on you.”

 

Regina mutters a soft “We?” while avoiding her son’s penetrating gaze. His eyes, which have almost nothing of Emma but are so similar to Snow White’s. Traits that skip a generation, like the predilection for inspiring speeches and an opinionated and nosey nature.

 

“We,” Henry insists, “Emma, Grandma and Grandpa, we were all worried. When I got that note from you, I was afraid you were abandoning me. It was Emma who told me I was being ridiculous and that you still loved me. And she was here tonight because she never gave up on you. But you can’t give up on her either. She’s never really had people before she came here. She doesn’t always know how to relate to them.”

 

“Oh please, she definitely has someone who is very determined not to give up on her.”

 

“Well she needs that… but maybe not him.”

 

“You don’t like Hook either, now?” Regina asked. Though the pirate stands very low in her regard, she didn’t begrudge him Henry’s attachment. She knows Henry has always craved male role models and no matter how despicable she finds Hook, he’s been accommodating with ‘the lad’, even if she knows his behavior isn’t altruistic in the least and maybe Henry knows that as well.

 

“I mean he’s cool, but I don’t think I have the best taste in men,” Henry says, a little frown line forming in between his eyebrows.

 

“Whatever do you mean my little prince?” Regina smiles wide at her morose boy.

 

“Well I liked Walsh back in New York, and we all know what circus that whole relationship turned into,” he says with an impish grin. “And before that I liked Graham,” he continues, and the frown lines return.

 

“That was different,” Regina manages to get out past the knot that has formed in her throat, like a piece of poisoned apple lodged so far it’s become putrefied and is rotting her along with it from the inside.

 

“I’m older now, I understand more.”

 

“There’s nothing to understand dear, he had a heart condition.” Regina evades and walks away from Henry and the conversation, she can’t look him in the eye and speak her lies at the same time.

 

“He was missing his heart. And you crushed it,” Henry challenges. “Because he betrayed you… again.”

 

“You don’t understand what happened.”

 

“I remember enough.” He moves to stand in front of her again. “I remember that he was always nice to me. I liked him.” Henry’s shoulders shrink, giving the impression he’s deflating before her eyes. “I didn’t know you kinda liked him too.”

 

“Henry, you are too young to understand these things.”

 

“He was around often when I was little. For somebody who was raised by wolves, he sure wasn’t that stealthy. Don’t worry I had no idea why the sheriff was checking our house for intruders at night, shirtless while making a sandwich. I was only 4 years-old after all.”

 

“Whatever you think, it wasn’t like that.” Regina says. She’s always assumed Henry had been oblivious to her liaison with the Sheriff. He sure acted like it.

 

“I remember asking you for a dad when I was little so I would be more like the other kids in my class,” Henry says, his face growing red with embarrassment. “I think I also told you Graham would make a good dad, cause he had a cool patrol car, with flashing lights and he let me play with the siren on it once.” It had all made sense to a child’s mind. “I really didn’t know what was going on, I only figured it out when I got my memories back, last week.”

 

“I grew up with parents that didn’t love each other, I could never do that to you, Henry, or to myself. What I had with Graham, it was ...complicated, for lack of a better word.” Though she is eager to comfort her son, Regina mainly wants to change the subject. It’s bad enough he’s got that Book to tell him of her crimes back in the Enchanted Forest, she was hoping she could spare him her more recent sins.

 

“I told you, they taught Sex Ed in New York, and also Emma gave me a talk, or two. I kinda get it, pretty sure it falls into the ‘it’s not yes if she has your magic heart in a box in her vault and has cursed you’ category.”

 

The way he says it is very pragmatic, he’s not attacking her, but Regina would rather have him scream at her that she’s the Evil Queen. At least then she would know he still hasn’t been touched by this world or any other realms’ ugliness.

 

He’s never backed down when faced with the Evil Queen and her misdeeds. Regina remembers how it was like growing up with a mother known for her despicable deeds. How she would try to block away the memories or make believe it was just coincidence. At that time, she’d been so dismayed by her helplessness that she’d sought, by any means, to acquire the same power that had been used to hurt her. It’s an ugly reality she had to live through, but would not wish on anybody else, least of all her own son.

 

She doesn’t find the words to explain herself or make something so wrong and ugly right again. Her eyes sting with tears of frustration and anguish that threaten to fall.

 

“Mom, I know you’re not that person anymore, you’ve changed, you’re good now.” His words give her an absolution she most emphatically knows she is undeserving of. But the fact is, it’s Henry’s innocence that allows him to believe such a change is even possible. She smiles through her tears at the one good person in her life that her love has not corrupted.

 

“I’m truly sorry, Henry. There are so many things I would do differently if…” her words get swallowed by a sob.

 

Henry lowers his head and squints at her as if to assess her truthfulness. He looks so much like Emma right now. She’s not sure when exactly, in the past couple of years, it stopped hurting to see the reflection of his birth mother in her son’s features and behavior. But somewhere along the line it has even become endearing to her.

 

“You can’t change the past… Or at least not without a creepy ritual that involves baby parts and unexpected complications,” he nods sagely, her little old man. “I know you can’t apologize to Sheriff Graham or to the many other people you’ve hurt with your magic… But you can say sorry to the ones who are still around and want to hear you out. I think they need that, and so do you.”

 

“Like Emma?”

 

“Yeah, like mom. If she can say sorry, so can you.” And perhaps he does know her better than anybody else, because if guilting her into doing something doesn’t work, then challenging her should do the trick.

 

*

 

Once Regina decides on a course of action, shy is the last adjective that one can apply to her. Driven is more adequate. She needs to find Emma and she needs to make amends. Although those two things might seem engaged on parallel roads for the moment, Regina will bend time and space continuum to make them meet. For Henry’s sake, for Emma’s and maybe a little bit for her owns.

 

Usually dressing herself comes to her effortlessly, like second nature, after all she is the trendiest woman in this town and she doesn’t need a magic mirror to tell her that. Today, she lingers over clothes and discards several options, trying to be as perfect as she ever was. She wants to impress Emma, to dazzle her, to make the little sheriff's eyes linger on her like she were the last glass of water in an endless desert. She’ll hypnotize Emma into accepting her apology.

 

The cheeky whistling Henry directs her way before she leaves the house is very gratifying. The added thumbs-up and the hopeful smile on her little boy’s face gives her courage and adds a little spring to her step. She can do anything with his love driving her forward.

 

Now where would an embarrassed Emma end up if she were hungry, thirsty and in last night’s clothes? Not in her parents’ home, most definitely. Granny’s it is, then, Regina decides. It’s as good of a starting point as any.

 

She materializes just outside the little diner, the familiar puff of displaced purple air announcing her arrival. Fortuitously, like destiny winking at her, the door opens with a crystalline tinkle. She gives the patron on the other side of it a very firm look that has him scrambling to hold it open and give her priority. Yup, she still has it.

 

The usual clientele spare her no more of an instant of acknowledgement, accustomed by her comings and goings, then return to clinking and clanking their way through their hearty breakfasts.

 

The slight lull in the noise level doesn’t seem to register to Regina’s prey. Miss Swan, Emma, sits slumped in a bar chair, her exposed back to the entrance, her head bowed, lying on her overlapped hands. She’s still in her princess pink dress, and that seems to be drawing people's attention.

 

Not least from Granny herself, who’s pinched face and squinting eyes make her look like a very judgmental lemon whenever she happens to glance at the only customer seated at her bar. I guess being the sheriff and the Savior doesn’t excuse all sins in certain people’s eyes.

 

The muted hum of the song filtering from the jukebox suddenly swells and it’s of course ABBA. What are the odds? Regina huffs in disbelief, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. “If you see the wonder of a fairy tale,/ You can take the future even if you fail,” is the lyric that’s playing when Emma suddenly turns and they fall straight into each other’s gaze.

 

Oh, Emma’s mouth opens in a perfect shape, and her eyes flicker up and down Regina’s figure, before blushing a beautiful scarlet.

 

Regina practically saunters to the bar and after a brief nod towards the Widow Lucas, hitches herself right next to Emma.

 

“Thanks for saving me the seat, Miss Swan.”

 

“Hi, I mean...Yeah. You want breakfast? I’ll treat you if Granny decides to take pity on me.” The last sentence is spoken in a hushed tone, but the incriminated person still pins her glare, this time on the both of them.

 

“Have you eaten?” Regina asks, pointing at the very clean and very empty bar in front of Emma.

 

“Nope, she says I should go change first, she won’t serve quote ladies of the night unquote.” Emma hasn’t lost her blush and she looks adorable with her fiery cheeks, trying to keep her laughter down to not redraw their hostess’ ire.

 

“Oh really? Now that Ruby has left they suddenly have a dress code?” Regina’s eyebrows climb the highest they’ve been this morning. What is it with these people and their unbending minds. She pulls Emma towards a booth at the back of the diner, aiming for whatever vestiges of privacy one can have during the morning rush. She takes the window seat and is a little  surprised when Emma slides in after her, shoulders bumping, but doesn't let it show. She signals Granny that they’re ready to order, both of them, and when the old woman tries to give her some lip, she directs her way her coldest and most forbidding Evil Queen stare. Granny huffs and puffs and nearly slams Emma’s plate and Regina’s cup of coffee in front of them respectively, but at last, they’re served.

 

Emma nearly shivers in anticipation of her food, plenty and greasy-looking, and the soft moans that her breakfast draws away from her should be outlawed or something. Regina unclenches her fingers from the cup’s handle and breathes very carefully. This is something new, but is it really? The remembered impression of Emma’s lips, pressing down gently like a bird’s feather burns her mouth again.

 

When Emma finally pushes her plate away, Regina finds she isn’t yet ready to speak. She busies herself with rolling her half-empty cup between her hands and lets Miss Swan to come to her - she’s always been the brave one.

 

“Regina,” Emma sighs, a weary sound that carries the weight of the world on its back, “listen, about this morning. Hell, about last night too. I’m very sorry, you know, that I made you feel bad. It wasn’t my intention, I wasn’t thinking straight.” She chokes on the tail of her last words and dissolves into high, superficial coughing that makes Regina bite her lips to stifle her laughter.

 

Finally breathing normally, Emma shifts on the bench restlessly, the material of her dress whispering delicately against her legs, the soft sound marking the silence between them. _Come on, you’ve slayed worse monsters, Regina, my girl._

 

Emma’s fingertips touch her shoulder, skating lightly over the ball of it and down her arm. “My apology would work better if you could stand looking at me.”

 

Regina raises her eyes and Emma’s gaze is right there, warm and inviting and more than a little remorseful. She brings her own hand to cover Emma’s. “It was my fault, Miss Swan. This morning. Last night, I think we’ll agree it was the both of us.”

 

“Oh my God, you actually went there. I thought we were keeping things in the nice realm of metaphor and undertone. I’m...” Emma flounders over her next words and goes to retrieve her hand but Regina tightens her hold, keeping her captive. They glare at each other, but it’s a muted thing, softened by a night of shared confessions. And a sweet kiss.

 

 _You can’t hate what you know._ Regina isn’t aware where she’s first heard that saying, but it fits. It fits them now.

 

“I don’t like it when my past is mentioned. As we've summarized I had a difficult early life and lost what I thought was my chance at happiness. I saw people around me finding theirs and I let myself be filled with envy. I concluded that they all owed me something. That they owed me their happiness. I am ashamed now of my hateful thoughts and actions. I didn’t have people around me at the time who cared enough, or I couldn’t see them. All I had was Rumpelstiltskin who stoked that anger for his ultimate goal.” It's all too maudlin for breakfast time but Regina doesn't want to leave room for more misunderstandings. She pulls their hands away from her shoulder, resting them on the wooden surface of the table.

 

“I get it. I get being angry. You’ve read my juvenile record,” Emma says, muttering, “illegally,” under her breath. She pulls their hands apart and folds hers over a paper napkin.

 

“That anger felt good,” Regina continues as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “It was all I had left, it turned my suffering into strength. Got that adrenaline pumping through my veins, gave me purpose when all I had was emptiness.” Regina stops, old thought pathways trying to pull her back down the broken tracks of her coping mechanism. “When the pixie dust led me to my soulmate I was not ready to love again. It took a long time for me to re-learn. But when I met Robin last year I had once again lost the person I loved the most, but I had also lost my anger and I was ready to give up. It took a lot of people being there, in my face every day, to keep me going until I found a way back to my happiness.”

 

“Henry,” Emma says their son’s name with reverence. And it’s the truth, but maybe not the complete truth.

 

“So now that I get my second chance with my family, I truly do wish for Robin to have a chance with his wife,” Regina says it like the end of a prayer or a confession. “After all she’s crossed realms and come back from the dead, if that’s not _Twue Wov_ then what is?” Regina says it the same mocking way Rumple used to, rolling her eyes dramatically.

 

“True Love's child, meddling?” Emma mumbles. “Regina, I understand that you are upset another _Happy Ending_ was stolen from you.” Emma knew it was going to come back to Robin Hood.

 

“I told you already, this isn’t about Robin or Marian, come to think of it I don’t even think he was supposed to be my happy ending, maybe his role was more of a place holder.”

 

With raised eyebrows Emma interrupts. “Regina you don’t have to downplay your relationship for my convenience. I can understand why for a man like him, his vows to his wife meant more than the year he spent with you, but...”

 

“Let’s not exaggerate, I could barely stand him before I returned to Storybrooke. Modern hygiene practices are the true magic here,” making light of the situation brings Regina a clarity of mind she has sadly been missing, and maybe with a little distance and a lot of distilled beverages the shine of the new is rubbing off.

 

Emma is a bit miffed by the answer; she had probably envisioned a passionate affair between the Queen and the Thief that transcended realms.

 

“I was a bit busy for romance what with protecting the people, saving your parents and defeating my sister.” Regina says a bit defensively. “Mostly the last part, having an enemy to destroy kept me going.”

 

“Well you managed to do all that and start a romance in the past weeks so don’t sell yourself short. You'll find your happy ending still. You saved the town. You’re one of the good guys now.” With that being said, Emma grows still, uncertainty radiating from her whole being.

 

“But does it really matter? If I do good things for selfish reasons?” Regina asks philosophically.

 

“I have to believe it does. Because I became a better person just to spite you.” Emma says with a big grin. She looks so much like Henry in that moment Regina’s heart skips a beat.

 

“Thanks for the endorsement. I should probably say sorry for taking it out on you in the last days,” it's not quite an apology but it's all Regina's willing to give this morning.

 

“No. You were right I haven't been much of a savior lately. I keep messing up and running into trouble and you've been left to deal with the aftermath.” Emma has been methodically ripping away at her napkin slowly transforming it into confetti, hands unable to stand still, her whole body restless.

 

“Emma, this Town is a magnet for trouble and I personally have racked enough bad karma for a few lifetimes. We'll deal with the Snow Queen and whatever comes next,” Regina tries to reassure her. “I actually enjoyed our time together Miss Swan, so I hope it wasn't all some sort of penance on your part.” She places her hand over Emma's trapping it like one would a fledgling bird, not to restrain but to shelter.

 

“No, see I keep doing it, disappointing everybody and always pushing people away with my walls.” Emma says a bit desperately, it's clearly something somebody else told her and it's been eating away at her.

 

Regina suspects who’s been battering the most at these supposed walls. “After everything and everyone you've lost in your life, you have more than earned the right to pick and choose who you let in.”

 

“But what if I take too long?” there's fear and longing in Emma's voice.

 

“I can always freeze time for another 28 years if you need it,” Regina says only half joking.

 

”There you go, trying to save the day again,” Emma quips. “Though that might be taking it a bit too literally.”

 

“Well I'm sorry to have offered, wouldn't want to get our roles confused.” Regina  is getting tired of this back and forth dance they've been doing  and she’s trapped herself in this booth.

 

“Look Regina, I’m an idiot, but I thought we could at least try to be friends after everything that’s happened.” When Regina tries to pull her hand back, Emma reverses their hold.

 

“You thought we could be friends.” Regina’s tone is close to glacial.

 

“I guess not.” Emma’s frown draws her features downward and steals the sparkle from her eyes.

 

“Just friends?” The hopeful lilt at the end of her question surely can’t be overlooked by the inquisitive Miss Swan.

 

Meaningful looks are shared and returned. On their lips the eager smiles waiting to grow are finally loose.

 

“So, I guess I should text Hook, let him know there won’t be a second date.”

 

“You’re going to dump him by text?” Regina feels delighted by the possibility and it must show, because Emma tosses her a half-chiding look before changing her mind.

 

“You’re right, I don’t think he gets how this whole texting thing works, I’ll call him later and tell him we’re through.” She winks at Regina conspiratively.

 

“My dear Miss Swan you were never started,” Regina replies. Their fingers intertwine effortlessly, slipping into spaces seemingly custom-made for each other.

 

They breathe together, content in their shared silence.

 

“Don’t you dare play that Police song in my locale. I don’t care it was the biggest US or UK or wherever hit of 1983, I don’t want to hear it,” Granny shouts at the dwarf by the jukebox. Happy’s presumably very unhappy with the order, but lacking the courage to disobey her, he chooses a different tune. ’Mamma Mia’ starts playing and as one, Regina and Emma start laughing, big guffaws of unrestrained joy.

 

Gasping through her tears of mirth, Emma gathers enough breath to ask Regina a very important question.

 

“So, how about this Thursday at Granny’s?”

 

“What are you on about? Are you asking me on a date, Miss Swan, a proper date? Isn’t it too soon?” Regina’s teasing tone gets her only a playful swat to her shoulder.

 

“I mean it. 8 pm, you, me, sequins, shiny monochrome jumpsuits, maybe some bell bottoms?”

 

“Pray, start making sense, Miss Swan. What are you dithering about?

 

“It’s karaoke night.” Emma smiles brightly at Regina, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “I was thinking we could do ABBA. How about it?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writers and artists spent months creating the fics and art you enjoy - it would mean the world to them if you commented to tell them what you liked! The SQSupernova team is also sponsoring a contest for commenters, and you can find out more [here](http://sqsupernova.tumblr.com/post/177527168129/the-swan-queen-supernova-comments-contest-returns).


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